


A Wild Rumpus

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-10-01 20:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20391667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: Hajime was brought up to be a lady.





	A Wild Rumpus

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I feel like Iwaizumi is very influenced by gender role expectations.  
2) I really don't like renaming the characters, so they all have their original names.

"Look at this! All we need is one more girl!!!"

Hajime doesn't say anything, but Tooru doesn't need a response. She's giddy and skippy. She's holding the sign up sheet for Aoba Johsai's volleyball team in front of her with both hands.

They got two new first years. That's good, because last year they only got one, and she quit before they even made it to a tournament. 

But it's not good, because Hajime had been hoping – maybe there'd be four, this year. If there was four – maybe. Maybe Hajime could quit the team and Tooru wouldn't even get that upset about it… 

It's not that Hajime dislikes volleyball. But there are better things she should be doing with her afternoons and weekends, and her parents spent all last year reminding her of this. Volleyball is just a game, and Hajime's never had amazing grades. Exams and graduation are coming, and it was one thing to mess around in first year, even second year, but in her third year, it'd be better if she spent that time studying, or in an academic club. A quieter, less demanding club. 

Well. That's what they say. But Hajime remembers, back when she was first looking into Aoba Johsai, her mother had pushed for Hajime to join the large dance club, but dance is not quiet or academic. "It'd be so sweet!" her mother had said, excited about the idea regardless. 

Obviously Hajime did not join dance. She followed Tooru to volleyball, just like she had in junior high. 

Tooru is not ladylike, at all. Tooru rolls up her skirt, showing as much leg as she can get away with, wears bright colored lipsticks. She's hopeless with household chores, doesn't know how to cook, and works out hard enough to leave sweat on the machines. She can play pretty princess when she wants, and her social media accounts are full of this, but when she gets serious, her competitive streak is merciless. 

She's definitely not one of the girls leaning against the wall in gym class, acting too fragile and waifish to compete, trying to go unnoticed. Tooru gets serious, wanting to play like the boys do. It's a little embarrassing. 

Tooru can ultimately get away with all this, get away with _anything_, because Tooru is very pretty. 

Even when she's messy, sweaty, smelly, and gross, she's pretty. When boys see her practicing in gym they say things like, _oh, having a real sporty girlfriend would be nice!_ but Hajime overheard them making fun of their team's only first year in the same breath, watching her do push ups. They pointed out her arms, thick with muscle, and called her a gorilla – because really, they don't want a sporty girlfriend. 

They want Tooru.

Unfortunately for them, Tooru's only love is volleyball. She might flirt, even go on an occasional date, but boys are not what occupy Tooru's mind when things get serious, or now. 

"Shigeru-chan dropped out of track last year, but if she's not interested then we can try Kaneo-chan, I guess," Tooru is saying, rapid fire. "She's not as good as Shigeru-chan but she'll definitely show up… I can always try calling up Kyoken-chan, too, but that's a last resort." 

Hajime watches her talk. Tooru is nervous, which is a little odd. She's popular enough that recruiting girls to the team won't be a problem. It doesn't make sense until Tooru turns her smile on Hajime, batting her eyes. 

"But we're nothing without Hajime-chan~" she finishes in sickeningly sweet sing-song, hands under her chin.

Hajime frowns down at the ground, then narrows her eyes at Tooru's thighs. She grips the hem of Tooru's too-short skirt.

"You're not going to spend time in _any_ club if you get caught rolling your skirt, dummy," she says, tugging it back to its proper length.

"_Haji-tan_," Tooru whines in an obnoxious baby voice, batting at Hajime's hands and stepping away. "The team can count on you right? Your receives?"

Tooru acts like a baby to get what she wants. It's not cute. It annoys Hajime and normally she'd take a handful of Tooru's ponytail and give it a good, hard yank to get that expression off her face. But Hajime's answer might actually be crueler than she wants to be, so she doesn't. 

"Hajime?" Tooru asks, eyebrows high. Starting to let her worry show. It's genuine, so of course Tooru is trying her best to hide it behind the smile on her face. 

"… The team can count on me," Hajime says, and the smile on Tooru's face is so real, so genuine, Hajime has to look quickly away before Tooru can get the wrong impression that this is _cute_.

~

It's her mother who wants a special family meal after Hajime's first day of the new school year, but it's also her mother who comes home late, having stayed long at the market, talking with friends. 

By the time she arrives Hajime's already half finished with dinner, grating the daikon for her tofu. This is Hajime's favorite meal, a treat for getting through the day, and after setting the table, she scoops a very generous portion onto her plate. 

"Hajime, I think that's _more_ than enough," her mother says, then, to Hajime's father across the table. "Did you know your daughter's uniform skirt went up _two sizes_ between this year and the last?"

Hajime's face heats. 

Half of her original portion drops back into the pot. 

"Well, well," her father says, non-noncommittally, and gives Hajime a comforting pat on the hand. _There, there. I forgive you_.

"How were your classes?" her mother asks. 

"Good," Hajime says.

"Good. Anything else? Oh, did you see Tooru-chan? You've told her you're switching to English classes after school, right?"

"I – agreed to more volleyball."

Quiet. Hajime looks up from her plate. Her mother is fixing her with a flat, unimpressed stare. After a beat, her gaze shifts across the table, to Hajime's father, eyebrow raised. 

"Your grades need work, Hajime," her father says.

"I passed English – "

"Barely," her mother says. "Hajime, I'm sorry, but you just cannot keep distracting yourself with that game."

"I'll study – "

"You had a chance to study hard first year. And second year," her father says. His voice is firm. "The answer is no."

Hajime presses her lips together, staring down at her plate. 

It smells good, it looks good, she watches the cheese soften and melt against the tofu, she mixes it into the sauce, but can't bring herself to open her mouth, to swallow any more of it down. 

Her parents eventually finish their meal, and Hajime gathers their plates, cleans them off in the sink, and escapes to the washroom. 

~

Unbraided, Hajime's hair floats on the surface of the bathwater. 

She sinks deep, down to her nose, and remembers when she was a child, and would pretend to be a monster. A creature from a lagoon. When she stands, her hair will stick to her body the way wild plantlife would: disgusting, molted tendrils. 

Of course, in reality, her hair is nothing like that. It's long, and soft, and smells good. She'll make sure it stays that way by spending the next hour washing, brushing, and pulling it up neatly, before finishing the last of her chores and going to bed. 

When she was a child, her mother did this for her, and would scold her for jumping with a wild splash out of the water, for unladylike roaring, for pretending to be a monster at all. Hajime is meant to be good, quiet, and patient, sitting still. 

Hajime feels like she's spent solid years of her life there, kneeling in front of her mother as she combs, braids, and pins Hajime's hair properly. 

"So lucky, Hajime-chan," her mother would sigh, proud and pleased, running her fingers through the fine, silky strands. 

This is Hajime's best quality. She's known this since she was five years old, and decided it would be fun to give herself a haircut. 

The end result had her mother in near hysterics, sobbing about how ugly _her baby_ had made herself. 

Since then, the only hair cuts she's had are trims, and styling for special occasions. Her hair reaches just beyond her rear, brushing against the tops of her thighs when it's down.

Otherwise, Hajime is plain, she knows. Hajime is flat chested, she's not outgoing, or bubbly, and her mother worries, often, about her chances to attract a boyfriend in high school, or husband after this. 

But Hajime also knows she can be dependable, and responsible. 

Hajime knows she can be a good wife who cooks good meals, a good mother, she can keep a clean home, and of course, never pretend to be a monster. 

~

"_Fine._"

Hajime steps back, annoyed with Tooru's angry reaction. 

"I'm not happy about it either."

Tooru waits a second longer, then slams her locker shut. "I _remember_ junior high, Hajime. You used to be good. You used to _try_," she glares. Her mouth is shaking. She might start to cry. "You're not happy, but you're not _sad_. You don't _care_."

"I _care_," Hajime almost shouts, and is taken aback by her own sudden burst of emotion. Like something desperate and intense escaped. Something monstrous and loud. Hajime cares. She cares so much maybe her eyes are starting to sting, so she quickly turns away from Tooru's shocked face and marches down the hall, to class, to the end of the day, where she'll be heading to another classroom, instead of the gym. 

~

Volleyball practice is grueling. 

Hajime doesn't have Tooru's energy, and she's always winded after the warm up jogs. All last year, her senpai told her that she needs to eat more, because it's the only way to get energy. 

Hajime tried, eating extra portions at lunch, enough that it would make her mother's hair curl to see. She's not sure what it gained her except outgrowing her uniform faster than she should've. She frowns miserably, remembering the night before… and even worse, the scene in the clothing store, when her mother had first discovered Hajime's weight gain. She would've fit into the next size up, with only a bit of a squeeze, but her mother had bought the one above that, and she knows it was as punishment, to make her feel even worse.

Hajime does not have to eat extra portions to keep up with English class.

It's quiet, and boring. The only danger here is falling asleep. 

Hajime fills out her workbook, copying one line of English, and then another. 

Volleyball games are unpleasant. 

Hajime frowns, focusing on keeping her handwriting neat and measured. But now, in the quiet room, she's thinking about Shiratorizawa. Last year, Tooru had convinced the coach to arrange a practice game with them before interhigh. Hajime burns with embarrassment from the memory alone. They hadn't held a candle to the team. The defeat had been so thorough Hajime was so – so frustrated, she wanted – wanted to shout or kick, but. No, that's not how she should behave. On the bus ride back to Aoba Johsai, she ripped her schedule in half, and then in half again, over, and over, so _frustrated_.

It's just a game. Hajime is spending her time more wisely, here, in English class, where nothing could possibly make her _that_ annoyed. 

Tooru is right, though. There was a time that Hajime had liked volleyball. She'd almost forgotten it. When she was young, she liked running and jumping. She liked hitting Tooru's tosses, the shared excitement between them when it scored. She always felt very close to Tooru, in those moments, like she was the only one Tooru was looking at. She liked it, and it made her want to get better. 

But it made her a mess. It was loud, it was boyish. That's when she found out that sort of thing is embarrassing. 

But it was fun before she knew that. 

~

"Is Hajime-chan home?"

Hajime almost recognizes the voice, but not quite. She walks down the first few steps, peering through the railing, and sees a boy from class. 

"Hajime!" her mother says, waving her down. She invites the boy to sit on the couch, and directs Hajime by the shoulders to the spot next to him. "You two talk, I'll get something for you to share!"

"Thank you," he says, bowing slightly as she leaves the room.

Hajime watches her mother leave, then turns her attention to the boy, feeling oddly – impassive.

Boys visit Tooru all the time. All the time. Hajime had tried to imagine this moment in the past, a male visitor of her own. There's nothing to be disappointed with, here. This boy has solid grades. He looks alright. He doesn't spend lunches with the rude boys in class. 

There's nothing wrong with him, and he's nervous when he asks if Hajime would like to go out, so all this makes Hajime feel bad about it when she tells him no. 

"_Why?_" her mother asks, horrified, when she finds out. 

Hajime doesn't want to talk about her actual feelings. Her lack of feelings. She's not sure why herself. But she does know she has no interest in that boy. 

"I'm busy with English," she says, instead.

Her mother, sensing a bargaining chip, shifts up onto her knees, excited. "Well, for something like _this_ – you can skip your classes, for something that actually matters."

Hajime moves to her feet so quickly, her mother startles in surprise. 

Hajime can't say anything. Her mouth feels wired shut, her jaw clenched. 

She stares at her mother, who is still startled, confused.

For something that _actually matters_. 

Anger travels up Hajime's back, down her arms, makes her shiver with it, threatening to make her a monster. So she stomps up the stairs before it can happen. 

~

"Oh hey – Hajime!"

Takahiro blinks in surprise as Hajime slips in through the gym door, bag over her shoulder. 

Tooru, across the gym and in a conversation with a first year, looks up. Her eyes land on Hajime, and she immediately runs over, crashing into Hajime and wrapping her in a gleeful hug so tight it almost lifts Hajime from the ground.

"Hajime-chan!!! You're here? You're here to practice??" she asks. 

Hajime nods. 

Tooru makes another happy shout, hugging Hajime again, rocking her from side to side. Hajime doesn't realize she's smiling until she feels her cheek pressing into Tooru's shoulder. She hugs her back, her heart racing. 

This rapid, excited beat of her heart is what reminds Hajime of the boy, the one who asked her out. Why would she ever want to spend time with him, when all it takes is Tooru's closeness, the happy nonsense babbled above her head, to make her feel like this? 

"We already ordered the uniforms, but we have to make a correction for Akira – these kids are so _tall_, Hajime!! I don't know what they're feeding them, but we can get a new one for you, too, when we get that fixed." Tooru frowns resting her hands on Hajime's hips, giving a testing squeeze. "Though I think you might have gone up a size from last year – _Ow!_"

Hajime scowls, and tugs on her ponytail one more time before releasing it.

~

Most of the girls in her class are taller than Hajime, so the coach had her as the libero in years one and two. But Shinji is a better fit for that, and Hajime gets put back up at the net, where she hasn't been since junior high. 

This is volleyball she remembers enjoying. 

It takes a while to get back in shape, but it's easier than it was before – the run, and the jump, she remembers the net being so much more daunting than this, much harder to reach the top of, struggling reach high enough to tip the ball over the other side. But now, she's jumping, and hitting with enough force for the ball to blast by a the first year's block. 

Hajime lands, staring at the spot where her spike landed, ball still bouncing from the impact.

"It's cause you're stronger now," Tooru says, grinning, catching the ball when it's tossed back to her.

Stronger. Hajime pauses. Bigger. Fatter. Larger – these are the things Hajime associates with growing. When she looks at her older, smaller uniforms, she wishes she was still that size, arms still that thin. The tiny, thin body she had as a junior high student is something she's only ever envied. 

But she's _stronger_. No one has ever used that to describe her before. She looks down at her red palm, the weapon she used to smash the ball over the net. 

She is, though. She is strong. 

"You were up early today, Hajime," her mother says, one morning.

"I was jogging," Hajime says.

"Well – " her mother starts. Hajime looks up from her meal, waiting. Apparently deciding from the expression on Hajime's face that it's not worth the fight, her mother rolls her eyes and shrugs it off. "Just try not to overdo it."

Hajime nods. She won't overdo it – she can't. Her body can withstand effort, and only grows stronger from it. Hajime knows how to evade blocks, how to tip the ball just over the blocker's fingers in a feint, but she's getting better at hitting through them, and finds she prefers it. When she stops looking for ways around, and simply _punches through_. 

"_Ah!_" Hajime huffs out quietly, landing, stumbling to get her footing after a block kills one of her spikes. 

Yutaro, the first year on the other side of the net, is smiling, rightfully pleased with herself for the block. "Do you ever yell, Hajime-senpai??" 

"What?" Hajime asks.

"I mean – coach says it helps. _Yaagh!_" Yutaro snarls, mimics smashing a ball over the net, then grins sheepishly. "Like that." 

Hajime stands upright, considering this. As she does, it feels as though a portion of her chest, a part she's been carefully blocking off, not allowing herself to use, _reserved for the monster_, suddenly releases. She breathes in, deep.

"One more," she says to Tooru.

Tooru salutes, and tosses. She knows what kind of spike Hajime wants, and gives it, high and back from the net.

Hajime jumps. Hajime roars. Hajime destroys the walls stacked in front of her. 

Hajime is a monster. 

~

There are jokes that Tooru would have no interest in flowers or chocolates - the only present she wants is a volleyball. Even seeing Tooru flirt and tease boys in their class, Hajime had assumed that this was party true. Tooru will simply not be distracted from her goal. She wants to win.

A part of Hajime is pleased when she holds Tooru's attention, as a spiker, but another part of her knows that Tooru would pay that much attention to _any_ spiker that will help her win. 

They split into teams for a practice game, and this is one of the rare times where Iwaizumi is on one side, and Tooru is on the other.

It's after a poor toss from Shigeru, low and close to the net. Hajime does what she can with it, aiming down, slamming the ball with a barking, guttural "_Augh!!_"

Tooru could've saved it, she was in the right position, with the right stance, arms even out for the receive, but she seems lost. She's too busy staring at Hajime herself when the ball lands, so Hajime scores.

Her team celebrates around her, and Hajime is disoriented when they pull her into the jumping, celebrating huddle, having been caught in Tooru's stare. 

Hajime has been Tooru's full focus when Tooru needs her to win, she didn't know it was possible to distract her from actually winning. She didn't think anything could. 

Part of her knows, with embarrassed certainty, that Tooru was gaping at the ugly monster Hajime becomes when she attacks like that. But she's proud of that, too, and if Tooru makes fun of how mean and gross her expression gets when she spikes – fine. As long as she wins, and Hajime is prepared to say that, when, in the locker room, Tooru grabs her by the sleeve of her jersey, and pushes her into the locker.

"That was so fucking hot."

The hot, intense whisper barely processes before Tooru kisses her.

Tooru is beautiful. She has soft lips, soft skin, soft, big eyes. They kiss, and Hajime realizes that part of her had thought about this – but the conclusion had been so obvious, so very certain, she hadn't needed to think much: _of course_ she would enjoy kissing Tooru. 

She doesn't respond at first, simply too surprised at the fact that it's happening at all. But it feels _exactly_ right, this is _exactly_ what Hajime wants, and why no boy, no matter how nice, how handsome, would ever be terribly interesting. Because there's this, there's Tooru, leaning back a bit, for a moment looking worried, maybe, that that was wrong. 

Hajime pants, licking her lips, looking Tooru up and down. 

She pounces.

~

"Your _hair_, Hajime!" 

Her mother is shocked at the mess Tooru's greedy, demanding hands left when she walks through the door, especially late.

"From practice," Hajime blurts in a rush, an obvious lie and her mother's raised eyebrow shows that she knows it. Hajime tries to fix it, but the words only makes it worse when it's clear that this is the actual truth, "With Tooru."

Her mother's expression goes blank, and calm.

"Ah," she says.

Hajime waits, but her mother doesn't say anything else. Nervous, Hajime mumbles goodnight, and escapes back to her room. 

~

"Come home straight after school," her father says, at breakfast. Hajime pauses in the doorway of the kitchen, surprised. Her father doesn't look her direction as he elaborates. "That means no practice today."

"… Yes sir," she says. She's leaving early, like she usually does, now. She's going to jog the gym, and unlock the doors for early morning practice. Their team is strong, and Hajime knows it is a very proud thought, a boastful thought, but she'd like to see what Shiratorizawa would make of their current line up now. 

Knowing that they will eventually have the chance, that it's only a matter of months away, makes her skin tingle with excitement. She can't believe she ever thought volleyball games were unpleasant. Though, maybe just being forced to lose was the unpleasant thing. 

The thought makes her pause. 

_Forced_. Who forced Hajime to lose? Who forced Hajime not to practice seriously, to keep her heart and ambitions reserved for something _they_ decided? Something that _matters_? No one did, she knows, because now she knows, no one _could_.

She skips practice early that day, as asked. She returns home, emboldened with this knowledge, an unshakable truth. No one can force a monster to do anything. 

"Hajime-chan," her mother says, voice very sweet when she walks through the door, but the facade drops when she sees what the day has done, again, to Hajime's hair, escaping from the braid in long strands. She clears her throat. "Straighten yourself up, then come join us."

Sitting beside her mother on the couch, there is another boy. This is one Hajime knows well, a family friend. He's in college, studying literature. Hajime does not like him.

Hajime excuses herself with a short bow. She walks to the bathroom, grabbing scissors from the cabinet along the way. 

It's harder than she thought. And she has thought about this. In summers, after swimming, after hours, and hours, and hours, of tending to it like a cursed garden. She's thought about doing the same she did as a child, cutting until it matched her own preference. She never did, because at the time, she thought it was something she could never get away with twice. 

The only thing stopping her in reality is how thick it is. Hajime has to cut in sections, gathering it in small handfuls, and cutting, and cutting, the sound of the scissors echoing in the bathroom, the sheer weight of her hair dropping to the floor with audible whispers, piling around her feet. Chin length at first, but then she goes too far on one side, and makes it shorter than that, then shorter, and when she glances at her expression in the mirror, she's smiling. 

It's a smile she's never seen before. Showing teeth, wicked. Monstrous. 

She climbs out the window, leaving her hair there, spilled wildly across the floor. 

~

She makes it to Aoba Johsai after practice is scheduled to end. She's not worried, though, because Tooru is never in a hurry to leave. 

She's the only one there, locking up the clubroom, as Haijme walks up the steps.

"You're too late for practice, Hajime, but we can – " Tooru stops, and actually does a double-take. 

Haijime clears her throat under Tooru's stare. She reaches for her braid instinctively, to give a short, nervous tug. It's obviously not there. Her hand drifts, awkwardly, to the back of her bare, exposed neck instead. 

Tooru gets over her shock quickly. A giddy smile spreads, and her hands slowly rise to her face, she's giggling, but in a purely delighted way, obviously very, very pleased, like this was a surprise gift, just for her. 

"Oh, my god," she says. Leaving the keys still dangling in the door, she hurries over to get a better look. "Oh my god, Haji-tan…" 

She rubs through the short, prickly strands of Hajime's hair, of course not asking for permission. Her hands pet down the side of Hajime's head, and Hajime she recognizes the motion of Tooru's thumbs, rubbing at her temple briefly. This is something she does with her cat, Tonoto. It always makes Tonoto's eyes close, and purr softly. Hajime can understand why. 

"You look _so hot_," Tooru whispers. Her tone is husky, shamelessly suggestive, and Hajime is flustered enough to go for Tooru's ponytail, again – "_Ow!_ I meant it, really!!"

Hajime knew that, it's why she got flustered at all. She resists the urge to tug again – and maybe there was a time she wouldn't have known what to do with the hunger and monstrous energy inside her. Dithered, hesitated. 

She pulls Tooru into a kiss, channeling it there, instead. Because she knows, now, she's a monster - and Tooru likes it.


End file.
